A Proper Mentor
by Deceptive Lies
Summary: Loki Odinson never imagined that his boredom would lead to him teaching at a magical school in Midgard called Hogwarts. Severus Snape never imagined that he would be mentored by the God of Mischief himself. But Loki appreciated innovation and cunning, which young Severus had in spades. For when Snape finally has a proper mentor, the Wizarding World is never the same again.
1. Improperly Gifted

Loki Odinson, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard, was bored. It certainly was not the first time, after all, the mercurial god has been around for millennia. Many a times has the younger Prince found himself with little too do, having exhausted all the books in Asgard and beyond centuries before. It on was days like these, where Loki caused the most mischief. In fact, some of his most inspired work came from days such as these; where peace in Asgard flourished, and war was far from their minds, leaving the gods with little else to do.

Perhaps he would travel the realms again, Loki thought as he crossed his legs in contemplation. Vanaheim was particularly wonderful this time of year. But the Vanir were no friends to the mischief god. Or perhaps he should travel to Nidavellir, the home of the dwarves. Yet he was certain they were still angry over the events of a few years previous. Loki had to fight a smirk at that particular memory.

Or perhaps Midgard? That seemed like the most interesting idea thus far. It was only a few days before when an old student of his had come to him with some _very interesting _news. Apparently, some time within the few centuries since he had last been to the pathetic realm, the mortal insects had actually developed their own magical society. Maybe it was time to give them a visit.

He was curious to see if the little humans actually learned anything substantial about his chosen field. According to his dear student, the mortals had constructed schools across the realm that teach and instruct young children in the proper wielding of magic. The god of lies withheld a chuckle; as if those insects could even come close to the _true _power that magic had to offer. He supposed it'll be interesting regardless, at least it would give him something to do.

* * *

The urge to throttle his brother was a constant factor in Loki's life. Thor, for all his supposed splendor and 'power', was a bumbling idiot on even the best of days. As the younger prince stalked through the halls of the expansive palace, he avoided interaction with his baboon of a sibling and his band of merry followers with a certain distinguishable grace that could only be explained by centuries of practice. He felt no masochistic need to subject himself to the questions the 'Lady' Sif would undoubtedly have regarding his whereabouts these last few months. He had no intention of divulging such information; despite not doing anything of note, he enjoyed Sif's flustered stammering as she worked herself into a barely surprised rage stemming from her own, obviously fabricated and extravagant, conclusions.

Regardless of the amusement he often derives from Lady Sif's anger and humiliation, today he was not looking forward to it. The other three idiots who followed Thor around were also utterly boring to him, so Loki ducked the moment his magic sensed their presence approaching. He had no doubt his elder brother was looking for him, Thor often sought out his company and council, wanting the master sorcerer present for whatever foolhardy and unquestionably ridiculous adventure he had planned that day. With a smirk, he slipped into the darkness, shielding him from sight.

Loki was quite accustomed to hiding in the shadows. The darkened halls of the palace were his most comfortable haunts, providing a sense of security and refuge for the master magic-wielder. Quietly, he slipped into the library, a room in which he spent most of his entire childhood scanning each and every crevice and crack. He often spent his time alone, he knew. It wasn't as though he were particularly introverted; after all, despite not being as loud and boisterous as his brother, Loki was known as the silver-tongue. He could perform with the best of them, charming even the most stubborn of races into submission. So no, he wasn't a loner by nature. He was a loner by experience.

In his childhood, he mused, he wasn't quite as bitter. He could recall scampering after his elder brother, eager to please his family with a display of his powerful skills and unrivaled shows of magic. He knew, even during his often misguided youth, that his magic was unparalleled by even the greatest of sorcerers found on Asgard; his prowess with the difficult art both beautiful and deadly alike.

Yet with each successful incantation, with each majestic showing of sorcery, his father would just sigh and look askance. "It is a feminine art," Thor would later say, "you cannot blame father for not quite understanding your obsession." But Loki was a quick learner, so after the first few times of running into his father's throne room to show him his newest spell, he learned to stop himself. Instead, once he would master a skill, he would quirk a little smile to himself, before turning away and beginning to practice the next one.

Loki was powerful. He knew this well, despite the people of Asgard claiming the opposite. For centuries he traversed the realm, reading every book, researching every lost art. He learned from the best of instructors, and when there was no one left to teach him, he began to collect his own students, spreading his wisdom and knowledge across the universe. For centuries he collected students, ranging from stray Vanir orphans to Midgardian royalty, Loki played a pivotal role in the expansion of the mystical arts. Yet no one suspected a thing.

Loki reclined on the ostentatious, yet wonderfully comfortable, royal green couch as a large smirk spread across his handsome features. While a part of Loki, a part which held the resentment built from his youth, hated the fact that his family had yet to notice his true prowess, a larger part of him was glad that Asgard underestimates his strength. It's _much _easier to get away with slightly questionable acts if the victims are not privy to his _true _power.

Opening a large, leather bound tome one of his students brought him from Midgard, he was intrigued by the contents that were sprawled across the most, the dull and thick book would be almost impossible to read, especially with the intense concentration and interest that Loki was now exhibiting. But Loki was a scholar above all else, and he valued nothing in the universe as he did knowledge. _Especially _magical knowledge.

So, with an interested smile, he continued to read Hogwarts a History.

* * *

Severus Snape smirked proudly as he peered into the black cauldron that lay before him. The potion was a calm silver, with soft pink smoke ringlets slowly climbing upwards. It was brewed to absolute perfection. He rose his head calmly, a look of utter serenity plastered across his face, "Professor Slughorn," he called out, "I have completed the potion."

The elder Potions Master's eyes widened in disbelief, glancing at the clock before resting his gaze on the young prodigy, "Mister Snape, that is not possible! It has only been half the allotted time!"

Severus's lips twitched a bit in pride, "Yes sir, however we have discovered that if you crush the berries instead of slicing them, it creates far more potent juice, allowing it to simmer in a fraction of the time."

Slughorn fumbled momentarily as he peered into his student's cauldron, shock creeping up his features as he realized that these children had found a way to reduce the amount of time needed to brew, "Amazing. Purely genius. Miss Evans, surely this was your idea?"

Lily spared a glance at her best friend and Potions partner, before meeting her professors gaze with determination, "Actually professor, it was-"

"Just marvelous," Slughorn muttered, not hearing a single word the young girl said, "I always knew you were a prodigy Miss Evans, yet surely this exceeds even the highest of expectations!"

Lily's jaw dropped slightly in shock as she fumbled to correct the man, "No, sir, it was-"

"Alright students, all take a look at Miss Evans and Mister Snape's potion! Miss Evans, through wit, imagination, and clever innovation has found a way to reduce the time necessary to brew the potion! You should all follow in her footsteps, and aspire to be as talented as she," Slughorn spoke, his voice carrying pride as he waxed poetry about his favorite student.

As Lily moved to interrupt him, a pale, lithe hand settled on her shoulder, "Don't bother, Lily. He would never believe you anyways, he'd see it as a pathetic excuse you made to help give me favor."

The red-headed fifteen year old turned to look at her closest friend, watching as he determinedly poured the potion into a vial and began clearing away the table. Not once would anyone suspect anything to be amiss from the long-haired, quiet Slytherin. Yet no one knew him as well as Lily.

"It's not fair, Severus," She whispered, a frown marring her beautiful features, "You are the one who came up with the idea. It's _your _potion. Look, Slughorn is your head of house, _of course _he'd believe us if we just tell him the truth."

Severus smiled bitterly, "He may be my head of house, however he never had high expectations for me."

"You're a part of his Slug Club," Lily argued.

Snape snorted, "Oh yes, _that _utterly pretentious club. You know as well as I that the only reason he did so was to save face, for how could he invite one prodigal potions expert and not the other?"

Lily looked away in guilt, "That still means he acknowledges your skill."

"No Lily, it means he acknowledges _your _skill and only invited me so that you would come without making a fuss," It didn't bother Severus to admit this. Not much at least. He had long since gotten used to being overlooked. At the very least, he was glad Lily was on his side.

"It's not fair," She whispered solemnly, her arms crossed across her chest.

Severus spared his best friend a glance, "Very few things in life are."

* * *

Loki scoffed quite loudly as he walked around the ostentatiously built Diagon Alley. Store fronts of all colors, shapes and sizes were loudly displayed, each one drawing your attention and calling your gaze to them. These wizards were interesting, Loki would give them that.

When he read Hogwarts a History, it took almost every fiber of his being to not cry in laughter. For what surprise took a hold of him when he read that one of the founders of this 'great' school were none other than Salazar Slytherin. He recalled young Salazar, having taught the talented young boy magic sometime in the 9th century in Midgardian times. Salazar personified all the God held dear: cunning, mischief, resourcefulness, ambition, pride. Loki found much amusement while instructing the parselmouthed mortal, his students sheer brilliance making it easy for Loki to teach him the more difficult of spells not quite seen in Midgard.

Regardless, Loki was greatly amused that his previous student was the one to create the realms first school of magic, and he looked forward to unlocking all of its secrets. He was hoping to find traces of the Magic of Old, the magic he taught Salazar all those years ago, embedded into the foundations of the school. It would be a pleasant surprise if he found the proof that foolhardy Salazar actually took his lessons seriously.

Soon enough, he found the store he was looking for, a lovely bookshop called Flourish and Blotts.

* * *

Severus's hand clenched as he slipped quietly into the hall, practically disappearing into the shadows as the large silhouettes and booming laughter of the Marauders finally walked out of earshot. He allowed himself a small breath of relief.

Correcting his posture, he made his way down to the library, looking forward to a much-needed escape. James and his merry crew were particularly vicious this year, their hatred for him growing simultaneously with Potters own infatuation with one Lily Evans. The Gryffindor's never did approve of her friendship with the _slimy _Slytherin, often times getting into heated arguments as Lily attempted to defend her friends honor.

Severus sneered at the thought. He never could, even to this day, quite understand their hatred for Slytherin. What was wrong with cunning? Many wars were won through intelligent, strategic means rather than mindless brawn, traits which the Slytherins held in spades. Who needed utter violence when one had resourceful cunning?

Despite his petulant thoughts, he knew that as long as he drew breath, he would never be respected within the walls of Hogwarts. He was ostracized by the other houses, the green and silver tie around his neck casting a shield against anyone who would even consider befriending the quiet boy. His fellow Slytherins were weary of his status of a half blood, yet they welcomed his friendship, recognizing his genius mind and penchant for the Dark Arts. Although Severus himself was weary of getting too close to them, for they certainly did not hold him in high regard. Even his own Head of House held little respect for him. While recognizing his above average talents in Potions, Slughorn tended to attribute his accomplishments to his favored student, Lily Evans, often times overlooking Severus's refreshing brilliance.

His only solace in this miserable castle was his friendship with Lily. She was everything he wasn't: good, beautiful, pure. He loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her, watching her small bouts with accidental magic with wide eyes as his intelligent mind connected all the dots. She was his only escape, her friendship offering a reprieve from his own home life, and later his horrid experiences here at Hogwarts. He knew that as long as she stayed by his side, he would be happy. And she would forever stay besides him, a fact he often used to taunt James Potter with.

Quietly, he entered the library, taking careful note to not be noticed by the ever-watching Madam Pince. He slowly crept his way over to the restricted section, his small frame hidden by the large shadows cast by the book shelves. He slipped beneath the rope before disappearing between the shelves, his footsteps utterly silent as he gazed upon the hidden tomes.

He had a lot of practice sneaking around; first sneaking away from his father, to more recent excursions of sneaking away from the Marauders. He was quite good at it by now. This wasn't the first time he entered the restricted section. In fact, this wasn't even the first time this week. No, Severus quite enjoyed reading the advanced, often times dark books, the words that littered the page serving as inspiration for some of his more _innovative_ spells.

Lily never approved of this, Severus thought as he roamed the shelves. She thought his passion for the Dark Arts to be dangerous, seductive even. She never understood what caught his attention, how the beauty of this mystical, _forbidden _branch called for him like a mother for her long-lost son. How the very spells taunted him from their place on the withered pages, begging to be whispered softly in the privacy of his own dark chambers. How the _power _coursed through his veins with each successful incantation, his heart beating to the sound of victory.

No, Lily thought he was being foolish. That by mixing around with his fellow Slytherins, he was being tainted by their ideals and dark forms of magic. How disappointed she would be, he mused, if she found out that he was firmly wrapped in the embrace of the Dark Arts prior to his Hogwarts acceptation. That he had long ago found Dark books hidden deep in his home, relics of the Prince family, waiting for the rightful heir to claim. That his very own Potions book, old and used, was littered with his fine cursive handwriting in the margins, the smeared black ink detailing specific, _new _dark spells of his very own creation.

He had reached the very end of the section before a book caught his interest. He calmly reached for it, the title enchanting his very curiosity; _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. As he pulled out the large, leather book, a smaller one toppled out along side it. Severus placed the large volume down for a moment, reaching down to the floor to pick up the previously hidden book. It was coated in dust, perhaps untouched for centuries, and as Severus began wiping away the thick layer of dirt, he noticed the true beauty of it. It was thin and small in stature, the pages worn from time. It was emerald green and leather bound, the Slytherin emblem proudly displayed on the front in silver. Slowly he opened it, fearful that even a small use of force will make the book crumble to ash.

Lifting the cover, he read the small words in the front page:

_**Here lay the journal, of Salazar Slytherin**_…

* * *

Conjuring a handful of the golden coins these mortal wizards used as currency, Loki paid for the plethora of books he found. With a wave of his hand, he silently sent them all to his pocket dimension; an endless void where he stored all personal items.

The shopkeeper looked at the God with unblinking eyes, shock painted across his countenance, "How did you do that?"

Loki quirked a brow, "Do what, exactly?"

The shopkeeper gestured to where the books lay previously, "How did you make all of those books disappear? I didn't even see you take out a wand!"

"I don't need one," He replied arrogantly as he strolled out of the store.

Loki sneered as he was reminded of those ridiculous tools. He recalled Salazar's own fondness for the wooden sticks, having grown reliant on using a device to channel his own magic. Thankfully, Loki had broken him of the habit soon enough, showing him the importance of wielding magic without a crutch. He never quite understood the popularity of wands. They were nothing more than devices used to channel one's own magic, and often times using one could lead to a sorcerer's downfall. For a wizard was only as powerful as his wand.

Say a wizard had a large quantity of magic, yet from the time his core developed, he only used a wand. Now wands could only channel a specific amount of magic, so if one had more magic than his wand could handle, it was never utilized and remained dormant. If this continued on for years, then the untapped magic would wither away, leaving the wizard far weaker than he could have been. Besides, wands were only meant as mere channels for children to begin learning how to access their magic, not for full grown adults! It was true, that learning magic with a wand was far easier than learning it the proper way, but a wand was a crutch, and if one never moved on from it, their magic will never fully develop to their true potential. Compared to _true _wizardry, these magic wielders on Midgard were ridiculously weak, and so utterly lazy.

Loki had thought Salazar understood this, yet reading Hogwarts a History, he learnt that soon enough, his student went back to using a wand, limiting his potential greatly. Why anyone would willingly hinder themselves, he did not know. Loki shook his head ruefully; Salazar always was too stubborn for his own good. While one of his favorite pupils, Loki was intimately aware of his faults. His obsession with blood purity grew with each passing year, a trait which continued after Loki's departure if what he read was to be believed. His obsession ultimately led to his downfall, having left his legacy at Hogwarts, and living the life as a solitary nomad. Loki sighed, he always wanted better for him, it was a shame that Salazar rarely listened.

With an annoyed groan, Loki realized that if he were to have any luck in blending in, he would need one of those ridiculous sticks. He contorted and twisted his fingers in ease, his magic pulsating as it spun together. Before long, Loki's pale hand grasped the long wand, the white wood carved beautifully with elegant twist and designs. The wood was from a tree in Asgard, near the palace, the branch he stole it from holding high magical potency. The tree, having been near Loki for over a millennium, practically buzzed with Loki's magic, allowing it to channel it to near perfect records. Inside the wand was the root of an elder Tree, coated in so much magic that is a wonder that passing by wizards couldn't feel the sheer magical radiation the wand was excreting.

With a smirk, Loki made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, a horrible pub and inn in which he unfortunately found himself staying in for the time being…

* * *

Albus withheld a deep sigh as he contemplated the mess they found themselves in.

"Are you certain?" He asked gravelly, not wanting to think of the repercussions.

Minerva nodded stoically, "I'm afraid so. His wife claims that he is on deaths door, the Dragon Pox having spread quickly and painfully."

Albus sighed once more. It was only a month into the school year, and already the Defense of the Dark Arts teacher had been forced to hand in his resignation. Perhaps young Riddle's curse on the position was getting stronger.

"Where will we find a replacement this late? We cannot allow this class to go untaught for much longer," Albus spoke.

Minerva frowned, her beady eyes narrowing in contemplation, "I am unsure, Albus. We had enough trouble finding him as is."

Albus nodded. It was true, with each passing year it grew harder and harder to find a teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. At this rate, the ministry would have enough ammunition to hire their own teacher, placing a ministry official to spy on Hogwarts and report their findings. He grimaced as he thought of the implications. No, he had to find a professor, and fast.

"Where are you going?" Minerva asked as Albus raised from his seat.

"The Leaky Cauldron," he responded, "Tom knows all the comings and goings of wizards and witches alike. Perhaps he has an idea for a candidate."

* * *

Loki gulped down another shot of firewhisky, enjoying the burn as it seared down his throat. Oh, it didn't affect him, not in the slightest. His magic immediately vanquished any toxicities that entered his body. Nothing but the strongest mead in Asgard could even begin to get him inebriated.

The pub was a dark and dingy place, home to all sorts of seedy clientele. Loki didn't mind it too much, despite being a Prince, he had travelled the realms, and was quite accustomed to the less than stellar locations. In fact, one of his favorite taverns in Asgard was located so deep into the country side, so far from the splendor of the capital, that no one even recognized his features. It was both he and Thor's favorite haunts when they wanted to escape their _adoring _fans.

After downing another shot, he heard the barkeep call out, "Albus! What brings you here in the middle of a school week."

Loki turned slightly to examine the newest patron. The gentleman was old, obviously nowhere as near in age as Loki himself, but old for Midgardians he supposed. He had a long white beard, twinkling blue eyes, and wore a ridiculous purple robe embellished with pink stars. Compared to Loki's plain black suit, the gentleman looked quite eccentric.

"Ah Tom, it is good to see you," he greeted the barkeep with familiarity, "Do not fret, I am actually here on Hogwarts business."

Loki's ears perked at the name of his students' school. If he recalled correctly, and with his perfect memory he knew he did, the current headmaster was named Albus Dumbledore. This man that took a seat besides him had to be this headmaster.

"What kind of Hogwarts business bring you here?" Tom questioned curiously, yet not unkindly.

"I am in need of a professor to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Tom's eyes widened, "Already? It's only been a month!"

Albus nodded solemnly, "Our last one contracted Dragon Pox. Now I need to find a replacement before the ministry catches word of this development. I was hoping you knew someone."

Tom shook his head regretfully, "I'm sorry mate, I have no idea. No one I know is qualified to teach that subject."

"I'll do it," an elegant, soothing voice interrupted their conversation. Turning, Albus eyed the speaker. He wore an expensive black suit, his shoulder length black hair swept neatly to the back. He was handsome, and quite young, a playful smirk dancing across his features.

"And how do I know you are qualified?" Albus questioned the stranger.

Loki shrugged, "You could always test my knowledge on the subject, for I assure you, you will find no one more skilled."

"That is quite a wild claim."

"It is merely the truth."

"I suppose it would do no harm in testing you," Albus conceded, raising his hand towards Loki, "I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts."

Grasping the man's hand, the God introduced, "Loki Silverson, it's a pleasure."


	2. Necessary Fallacies

Sif never liked Loki. She detested his charm; falsehood woven together in beautiful, intricate patterns to trick the unwilling listener into thinking he was something other than a pathological liar. She did not trust his words, his mischievous vices speaking tomes about the tricks that came as easily from him as breathing air.

Thor did not see Loki the way she did. When Thor gazed at the countenance of his beloved younger brother, he saw honesty where there were fallacies, kindness where only wickedness thrived, love where there was cruelty. So no, while the Goddess would lay her life for her future King, Sif could not trust her Prince in matters regarding the Liesmith.

Therefor, when Prince Thor briefly mentioned Loki's trip during a particularly intense training session, she let her concentration drop just long enough for Thor to get a good hit in. Spitting out the grass that was wedged between her teeth, Sif struggled to sit up, her mind focused only on what she was sure to be the start of yet another one of Loki's meddling actions.

"Thor, where has Loki gone?" She questioned, mind racing as she came to various conclusions of Loki's plans, all ending in Asgard's inevitable doom.

Thor just shrugged, not at all concerned of the whereabouts of his deceitful younger brother, "I'm not quite sure, Lady Sif. Loki has never been the most forthcoming man, however I am sure he is fine."

Sif was sure as well. She never feared for Loki, she feared for those who interacted with the megalomaniac, "But certainly he told you of where he plans to go?"

"Like I said my Lady," Thor began, "Loki rarely tells me of his plans prior to execution. He has been utterly bored these days, I am certain he is merely on the lookout for something to occupy his time."

"That is precisely my fear," Sif whispered under her breath.

A bored Loki was a dangerous Loki. Anyone who has heard of the God's tales in the nine realms could attest to this fact. Thor was blinded by his love for his sibling; Sif did not have that handicap. If Thor will not interfere in the machinations of the younger prince, then Sif would take the task upon herself.

* * *

In the privacy of his chambers, the silver curtains drawn tightly hiding his bed from view of his nosey housemates, Severus tentatively stroked the front cover of the emerald green tome. His pale, thin fingers covered in callouses from a lifetime of experimental potion brewing drew circles across the cover, the feel of smooth leather soothing his turbulent thoughts. It had been a mere day since he had found the small journal, yet already he had read the book several times over, the tight black cursive imprinting itself in his mind forever.

_**He came to me, a God hiding amongst men…**_

_** …**_

_**He was beautiful, in an ethereal sort of way, his emerald eyes twinkling maliciously as he fostered my own fascination of the wicked darkness…**_

…

_**His tongue was sharper than his knives, twisting cruelly, wickedly as he tore down each and every previous notion that I had dared to make about magic…**_

…

_**All I knew about magic, all of it, a lie. I should not have believed the elders, he told me, I should only place my faith in him. Yet how could I do so when he proudly wears the title of Liesmith?**_

…

_**I can feel my own magical reserves growing with each passing lesson, the dark incantations pouring from my lips with ease…**_

…

_**Today we dabbled in blood magic, an ancient branch of sorcery that even the darkest wizards had not the confidence to venture into…**_

…

_**The Liesmith was angry today. Familial problems, he dismissed with an irritated tone. He did not miss the widening of my eyes nor the halting of my breath, I was not foolish enough to believe that he could miss such a reaction, as subtle as I was sure it was. He made no further reference to it, despite my continued shock. How could this man, this God, have family?**_

…

_**He is a parseltongue. The arrogant, knowing look in his eye as he commanded the snake I conjured told me that he knew how I would react to such knowledge. It was impossible, no one in history, barring the Slytherin family line, could speak to the reptiles. I made the mistake of asking him if he descended from my family line, a lost branch that somehow inherited our most coveted trick. He did not like the assumption, his magic pulsating in anger as he told me of my supposed arrogance, of how it would eventually be the death of me. I fear that he is right, he has not yet been wrong in any other factor thus far… **_

…

_**The Liesmith left on the night of the full moon, the glistening moonlight reflecting on his pale skin like millions of diamonds. I was one of his favored students, he admitted. I do not know what shocked me more; his admittance of favoring me, or the fact that he had other students deranged enough to learn from the psychotic man…**_

…

_**I wish he had never left.**_

Severus noticed, quite early into his reading, that Salazar Slytherin had no intention of naming his mysterious instructor, the God amongst men. In fact, the only sort of name given to illustrious teacher was "Liesmith", a title that gave him little comfort. This journal, a small relic hidden amongst the millions of forgotten knowledge that littered the library, changed everything the Wizarding world knew of the enigmatic founding member. Severus had long ago read multiple biographies detailing the life of his houses founder, yet all of the knowledge accumulated and heralded as fact was contradicted by this small little journal that somehow made its way to his hands.

According to 'The Life of Salazar Slytherin; a Biography', the man was taught by his own father, passing down ancient rituals and spells that had been in his family for centuries. No where in this book was a wandering nomad ever mentioned, a sorcerer so powerful he seemed to be a deity. Severus wondered what other knowledge the history books got wrong.

Where this instructor came from, Salazar never knew. Where he left, Slytherin could only guess. The man never told his peers the truth about his true teacher, Snape read. Severus supposed it was better that way. Knowledge was the ultimate form of influence, and by withholding information on the existence of such a powerful being, Salazar granted himself an immense amount of power. Power that was now granted to Severus.

Snape sighed dejectedly as he read the book for yet another time. Salazar, while giving accounts of his interactions with the Liesmith, never detailed what his lessons entailed. It would have been foolish if the man did so, Severus knew, but it was disappointing nonetheless. The Liesmith must long be dead, and with no records on Salazar's spells, his knowledge of sorcery was dead with them. It was unfortunate, Severus would have quite literally killed to be privy to the dark spells Salazar had hinted to learning from the 'God'.

* * *

Loki was quite amused as he leaned his head onto his palm, his long legs crossed languidly as he watched the elderly Headmaster gaping slightly from his side of the desk. Albus, as he was told to call him, could not help the narrowing of his twinkling blue eyes as he gazed upon the relaxed form of the prince before him. Loki withheld a chuckle as he twirled his wand with ease, the thin wood slipping between him fingers as if it were a snake coiling around branches, "Is this proof enough of my magical prowess, or do you require further displays?"

Okay, so perhaps Loki should have held back his ability just a bit more, but in reality what he had shown the Headmaster was pathetically little compared to his true skills. Albus had first asked him a myriad of textbook questions covering all seven years of schooling, answers that Loki readily gave with a bored drawl, often times even adding various little anecdotes not readily available to even the most studious of scholars. Once Dumbledore was satisfied, they moved on to practical skills, making the God perform a wide range of spells.

Loki did so, never faltering for even a second as the rudimentary incantations came to his mind. In truth, it was utterly boring being held back by this much, he had not performed such easy magic since the age of four, eons before. Using a wand in particular physically pained him, never having loved the use of the magical crutch. Nevertheless, he persisted, careful not to show the Headmaster just how simple these spells were for him, just how painfully dull even the most complex of known spells were for the God of Mischief. However, despite holding back as much as physically possible, the humming of magic bubbling beneath his skin as it fought his forced restraint, it was still quite impressive that Loki could show such brilliant displays of magic without taking a pause to even think.

"You never attended Hogwarts." This wasn't a question, Loki knew. Albus must have been old enough to be at the very least teaching here while Loki was supposedly young enough to be a school boy. He would have remembered a boy of his talent.

"No," Loki readily admitted, "I was homeschooled. My mother was quite the talented witch, taking it upon herself to teach me the art of magic."

Albus hummed, "Home schooling is quite rare in the Wizarding World these days, most families choosing to keep the tradition of sending their children to a magical school in order to foster a more well rounded education. I have never heard of the Ancient House of Silverson, for certainly your mother had to be quite the talent to foster your magical ability to these heights."

Gods above this man was annoying. Loki supposed there wasn't much the Headmaster was not privy to, leading to this meeting taking the role of an interrogation rather than an interview. Despite this, Loki kept a countenance of pure innocence as the lies poured out of him, the familiarity of deceit courting his tongue like an old friend, "I suppose you would not have. After all, there is no Ancient House of Silverson. My father was a muggle, and my mother stemmed from Norwegian nomadic clan."

Dumbledore's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, his reaction impossible to notice by most people. Loki wasn't most people. Albus withheld the urge to sigh as he took in this new information on the enigmatic professor. It would be impossible to track down Silverson's lineage with his vague familial genealogy. The Headmaster, in all of his years of teaching, had never seen such innate magical talent. For this power to belong to a stranger he happened upon in the Leaky Cauldron, well Albus was just glad he found him first. The powerful wizard could only guess what kind of atrocities his old student Tom would have committed with this man by his side.

"Well then, welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Silverson."

* * *

Severus felt his fingers curl loosely around the thin piece of wood, the bite of magical energy singeing his skin as he kept his battle stance. The moon hung high in the thick blanket of night, the stars peaking from the trees serving as the only source of shattered illumination in the Forbidden Forrest. Snape did not dare to cast a lumos. He was not a foolish Gryffindor, for he _knew_ what creatures lurked in the night.

With a sharp slash of his wand, a feral sneer painted on his usual apathetic creatures, he softly whispered, "Sectumsempra."

Bark erupted forward as the spell collided with the trees, thousands of wooden pieces soaring through the air perilously. Severus chest heaved with exhaustion, sweat pooling down his forehead as a grin stretched across his pale features. He had done it. A spell strong enough to vanquish even the most powerful of enemies was finally within his grasp.

He couldn't help but wonder what Lily would think of his new spell. Would she be proud of her friend for inventing such a useful and complicated incantation? Or would she be horrified to learn that he dabbled in magics so twisted and dark? He grimaced as he imagined her reaction, her pale skin turning green as she envisioned the spell hitting a person as was intended instead of the tree before her. Perhaps he wouldn't show her this particular spell. A man had to have _some _secrets, after all.

His personal mission was going quite well, at least Severus certainly believed so. His hand clenched his wand tightly as he thought of his promise, a silent vow he swore to himself over the summer. Flashes of images assaulted his vision, and just as he was reminded of the discoloration of his mothers' skin, he snapped his wand forward.

Several trees lay destroyed before him.

* * *

James Potter was many things: A Gryffindor, a seeker, popular, charming, intelligent and certainly handsome. Women across the school, including the Slytherins although they would be loath to admit it, admired the boyish grin and classic ruggedness that James just carried in spades. However there was one girl who was not swayed; Lily Evans.

His fellow Gryffindor held nothing but spite for the seeker, an ugly sneer that she must have learned from her despicable friend painted her features every time he strolled by. He often wondered what lies that snake was hissing in her ear, how such an intelligent girl like her could be swayed by the deceptions of a future Death Eater. She was smarter than that, James knew. It was not easy to fool Lily Evans, yet somehow Severus Snape managed to do exactly that.

The worst part of it all was that James did not hate Severus. Not really. Not the way he did that fateful first train ride when the Slytherin proclaimed his love for the house of snakes. Not the way he was sure Severus believed he did. But he had to. For Lily's sake he had to.

Lily loved Severus. Not in the romantic way he was certain that Severus secretly craved, but in the familial way one could only feel for their closest companions. War was brewing, the tidings of battle just over the horizon. If Lily stayed attached to the Slytherin, she would be prematurely dragged into something far more dangerous that he could mentally conjure. For nothing good can happen to a muggleborn who was loved by a practitioner of the dark.

And Severus was a dark wizard, of that James was certain. Snape was not evil, not really. But he was intelligent, deeply and intimidatingly so. This wisdom, tied with a fascination of the darker spells that thrived on the other side of the war, made Severus Snape a perfect candidate for a follower of the Dark Lord. No Slytherin would let a man as inherently perfect and cruel as Severus slip to the side of the Light, and no Slytherin would allow the one thing that ties him to the side of good stay alive.

James sighed deeply as he turned another page of his infernal Potions textbook. Lily never even looked his way, unless it was to chastise him for his behavior towards her _darling _Severus. So James continued to do as he did, for if he did not bother the odd Slytherin, then Lily would never even give him the time of day. James had to do whatever it takes to split up the dynamic duo, for Lily would never survive the war if she stayed attached to Severus.

James Potter was nothing if not persistent.

* * *

Slipping into the skin of another was disturbingly easy for Loki. He supposed it spoke leagues about his comfort portraying others, yet he never allowed the concerning thoughts to bother him. He watched as his porcelain skin turned old and withered, his brilliant green eyes dimming into a gentle brown, his raven hair lengthening and graying.

The old gentleman that Loki now portrayed was dull and forgettable, the exact look that Loki wanted. He grasped a long brown cane as he stumbled through the deserted roads of Knockturn Alley. Slowly he passed by every store front, his curious eyes taking in every semi-illegal product that was proudly presented in the shop windows.

Soon enough he reached his destination; a small door at the very end of the alley, black and old and dirty as though no one passed through the opening in centuries. The wards blocking the small home were strong, impossible for even the strongest wizard to break. Thankfully, Loki was not a simple wizard. With a small surge of his magic, the door flew open easily.

Loki grinned, stepping through the threshold of the small Misgaurdian home he hadn't seen in centuries.

* * *

"Severus, I don't think this is a great idea," Lily spoke candidly from her seat across her snake loving friend.

Snape paused his excitable tirade to look at the girl he loved, her green eyes flickering with worry and doubt. He set down his book, reaching a pale hand to grab onto Lily's, "I swear to you nothing will go wrong. I have it all figured out, the incantations I had worked so painstakingly hard for have all been perfected. All I need to do is test them, which will be easy with all the centaurs that roam around the Forbidden Forrest. If things all go to plan- no. _When _things all go to plan, I will finally have the freedom I have always dreamed about. The freedom _you _have always wished I had."

Lily looked askance, a grimace growing on her soft features, "I know we spoke about it. _Joked _about it, actually. I just never-" she stopped herself.

Snape narrowed his eyes, "Never? Never what? Never thought I would actually succeed?"

"No Severus, _no_," She shook her head, "I always knew you would succeed if you tried, I just never thought you would actually go through with it."

Severus blinked in confusion, "And _why _in Merlin's name would I not go through with it?"

Lily squared her shoulders, "Because a woman's life and happiness hangs in the balance. If things go wrong-"

"They _won't _go wrong."

"If things go wrong," Lily continued, "You will be dooming your mother to a lifetime of unhappiness."

Severus took a deep breath, feeling his Slytherin mask slip into place lest he let his real emotions show, "That is why I'm going to test the charms first, Lily. Plus, how much worst can her life actually get?"

"A lot Severus!" Lilly snapped, "Don't you see what you're propositioning here? Memory charms are illegal for a reason! You're messing with something that you have no business touching."

"Then what do you propose?" Severus bit out, "Allowing my mother to continue living with that-that-that _despicable _waste of space?"

"That 'despicable waste of your space', is your father!"

"No. He's not," Severus spoke calmly, "He has not been my father for a long time."

Lily took a deep, calming breath, "Look Severus, I understand why you want to do this. I _do. _But this isn't the right move, you're meddling with magic far darker than you should."

"Lily, have I ever given you a reason to not trust me?" Severus looked at her, his eyes pleading for her to understand.

Lily frowned, "Severus, I know that in your house, they encourage this sort of behavior. But you can't really expect me to be okay with you brainwashing a muggle!"

Severus blinked, "Are you, are you actually trying to justify my actions by claiming that since I'm a Slytherin I don't know any better?"

Lily shifted in her seat normally, "Well, only a Slytherins first instinct would be to dabble in the Dark Arts and erase their father's memory."

Severus felt his heart turn stark cold, "No Lily. That's where you're wrong. My first instinct was to Avada the bastard and blame his death on alcohol poisoning. My second was to imperio him into doing my bidding. The third was to perform an endless string of cruicio's until he was too injured to even contemplate raising a hand to my mother. Obliviating him was far from my first instinct, but it is the one that I have to make due with."

Lily refused to let the tears that collected in her eyes fall, "But you're not just obliviating him! What you plan is so much darker, and twisted, and just plain _sick_!"

Snape crossed his arms, "Well I'm sorry you see it that way."

"Don't do this Severus," Lily pleaded with him, "Just give me some time to come up with another solution! Just a little time!"

Snape eased his features. He still had to test the charms. While he hated the bastard, he had his mothers feelings to take into account as well, "Fine. You have two months. By then my spell will be completely ready."

Lily nodded in determination, "Two months."

* * *

"Sectumsempra!"

A multitude of trees crashed into the floor, pieces of wood flying haphazardly through the air. Severus heaved as he twisted to attack another section of trees. Just as the spell was going to slip from his scowling lips, a slow clapping broke his concentration.

He spun around to see the amused countenance of a handsome young man. The stranger wore a smirk that fit naturally on his pale, aristocratic features. His jet black hair was pulled into a short, low ponytail, leaving a few stray strands to loosely hang. The sharp gleam of his emerald eyes twinkled dangerously, as though he would like nothing more than to test out the curse that just barraged the trees.

"Who are you," Severus demanded, his wand pointing directly as the man.

The stranger rolled his eyes, his arms crossed indignantly. "If I wanted to harm you," he drawled, "I would have attacked prior to you seeing me. Seeing as though I instead alerted you to my presence, perhaps you can stop pointing your wand at me?"

Severus scowled, slightly lowering his arm, "You still have not answered my question."

"I go by many names, although I currently find myself being referred to as Professor," The man answered candidly, calmly adjusting his loose tie as though he had no worries about being held at wand point.

"You're a professor?" Severus questioned incredulously.

"I am," he nodded, "Professor Loki Silverson, teacher of Defense of the Dark Arts."

"If you _are _a Professor," Snape said, "Then why are you in the Forbidden Forrest and not at the Great Hall for dinner?"

"I could ask the same about you, _I _actually have the freedom to go where I please, unlike a certain student who stands before me," Loki responded, amusement coloring his tone.

Severus schooled his features, "I was practicing for our OWLs. They are quite soon, and seeing as how we haven't had a Professor for defense, I took it upon myself to study in solitude."

"My my, you are quite the liar," Loki spoke softly, "I must say I am impressed."

"I do not lie," Severus bit out.

Loki chuckled, "You would be quite the horrible Slytherin if you did not lie. Salazar always prided himself in his ability to spin fallacies."

"You knew Salazar Slytherin?" Snape questioned dubiously.

Loki waved away the questions, "A long time ago, but his actions interest me no longer. You, on the other hand, are quite the fascinating student. What is your name?"

"Severus Snape," he replied, his eyes not darting from the form of his newest professor.

"Well, Severus, I look forward to having you in my class. Perhaps someday, when you stop being so suspicious of me, you will tell me just how you got that lovely little spell to work. I _do _love a cunning mind, innovative enough to invent powerful dark spells such as the one you just demonstrated."

"I didn't invent this spell," Severus defended through clenched teeth.

Loki smiled patronizingly, "Of course you didn't, my boy. Of course you didn't."


End file.
